Ascents in Sedona's Red Rock Country

SCALing SEDOna's ANGEROus SPIres

The very first rockclimbers in the Sedona area were the Indians who scaled the sheer sandstone cliffs to flee their enemies and store their food. Their barefoot daring often amazes modern climbers equipped with the latest in high tech safety equipment.

Sedona and Oak Creek Canyon contain a climber's dreamscape: towering spires in fantastic shades of crimson, ochre, and white. The rock is sensual with a fine gritty texture. Unlike the cold granite of Yosemite, Sedona's sandstone spires feel friendly to the touch. This feeling is a deception; the climbs beguile the unwary. Loose blocks and brittle holds that snap off at the most desperate times can exact the highest price. Tim Toula's very funny climbing guide to the area bears the macabre title A Cheap Way to Die. Yet still they come, climbers drawn to Sedona by the visual spectacle and the magical feel of the ascents.

Old British climbing guides often offered this advice: "The leader shall not fall." The hemp ropes of the time could not be relied on to hold a long fall. Also the climber holding the leader's safety rope (the belayer) sometimes was insecurely attached to the rock because of the primitive climbing hardware of the time. If the leader fell, he might pull his belayer off with him.

Modern climbing devices make it much easier to protect both the leader and the second. Even so, Sedona's soft desert sandstone of the Schnebly Hill formation makes all climbing gear questionable because the rock may not be solid enough to hold it in place. The old advice that the leader shall not fall still applies in Sedona. The brittle handholds and loose blocks must be handled with loving care and sometimes with a whispered prayer.

Several years ago, I was climbing a poorly protected route called Dresdoom in Oak Creek Canyon. My climbing partner had led up the first 100 feet or so. I should have guessed the route was going to be trouble when bees swarmed out of a crack and attacked me as I climbed past, but I was on a macho roll, and I beat off the insects with my hat.

I went first on the next section, and soon I was far above my partner and still hadn't found a place to secure my rope. I was standing on a sloping ramp of sandstone from which my feet were slowly sliding off.

SEDONA ROCK CLIMB

And there were no handholds. My heart sank as I looked below and realized there was no way I could climb back down. If I fell it would be about 100 feet, and I'd probably be killed. This was my worst climbing nightmare come true. Still I was only 10 feet below a good ledge and safety. All I had to do was get a little higher so I could reach up and grab the edge of the ledge, then pull myself up. Luckily there was a small edge of sandstone to use as a step to reach the ledge. I just couldn't make a mistake. With crystal-clear concentration, I moved my right foot up to the edge. I set my fingers in ripples in the sandstone to balance myself and slowly shifted my weight onto the edge. It snapped almost at once, and I swung desperately to the right. My left foot started to shake and lose its purchase while my fingers were moving over the ripples. I was sliding off! And I was close to panic. Then, unexpectedly, my right foot found a momentary grip on the ramp again, and I remembered to breathe. At the same time, a cool voice from Survival Central in the back of my brain told my legs to stop shaking, and they did. Finally I was able to stabilize myself on the ramp again and block out where I was and what had just happened. Slowly I worked myself to the left and found a slightly easier way up to the ledge. When I got there I sat down with an incredible feeling of gratitude. I vowed never to visit Dresdoom again. That also was the end of climbing for the day. I was totally drained by the experience and felt as weak as a baby.

As you might guess, this left me with a deep respect for the uncertainty of sandstone climbing. So when Marc Muench suggested a climbing trip to Sedona, I was glad he also suggested we get his friend Cameron Kern from Flagstaff Mountain Guides to lead us. Coincidentally Cameron had actually taken a now-famous 90-foot fall on Dresdoom at the same spot as my adventure. He was saved from hitting the ground by his safety rope. He has since developed into a model of safe climbing practices. Cameron brought Fred Linder with him to round out our two climbing teams. Fred, a Northern Arizona University student and Arizona Snowbowl skiing instructor, looks like the All-American quarterback and proved to be a strong, steady climber. The Mace, located just south of town, west of Back-O-Beyond Road, was our first objective. Dramatic, with varied climbing and a minimum of loose rock, it is the favorite of many climbers who visit Sedona. Even the hike in is a pleasure, following a broad set of red sandstone "stair steps" up a dry creek bed to the base of The Mace. The climb starts up a big crack on the east side. I led first with Marc following. About 100 feet up, the soft sandstone is broken by a band of hard Fort Apache limestone which forms a short roof. This is surmounted by grabbing handholds overhead and pulling yourself up and onto the ledge formed by the limestone. Here I had to stop as I was near the end of the rope. I yelled down to Marc, and he climbed up after me while I held the rope (belayed). The moves over the roof were even more strenuous for

SEDONA ROCK CLIMB THIS is TRULY A STRANGE PART OF climbing; ALMOST falling is often A LOT SCARIER THAN ACTUALLY falling BECAUSE YOU have TIME to think about THE CONSEQUENCES.

Marc whose heavy pack contained a camera with a wide-angle lens as big as your head. But he has the advantage of youth and soon was sitting at my side on the ledge.

The start of the next section was hard, but I was able to clip the rope into protection pieces I placed into the crack, so if I fell it wouldn't be very far before the rope caught me. But the higher I went the bigger the crack got until it was so wide no protection device I had with me would fit into it. Now if I fell, the rope would not catch me before I took a long dive. All thought of the world was shut out of my mind as I carefully moved up the last 40 feet to a big ledge. This is the kind of climbing that demands quiet calm and slow confident moves. Panicky scrambling will surely result in a fall.Eighty feet up the top section, I got to the hardest climbing. Those who had first climbed this route in 1957 had drilled a protection bolt into the rock so they could clip their rope in while they made these difficult moves. Several decades later, the bolt was a joke because it had loosened and moved in and out of the soft red Schnebly Hill sandstone with ease. I didn't even bother clipping into it. Instead I placed a big protection device called a Camalot in a wide crack and clipped the rope into it.

Now came the crunch. I had to move from the security of the crack onto a sheer face. This was much harder than the climbing lower down that I had congratulated myself for handling so calmly. My fingers searched nervously for something solid to grab, and my feet started slipping off the tiny rounded edges.

I was thinking, “These edges have gotten a lot smaller since the last time I did this” when suddenly I was airborne. I didn't even have time to worry about whether the Camalot would pull out of the crack; it just happened too fast. This is truly a strange part of climbing; falling is often a lot less scary than almost falling because you don't have time to think about the consequences.I fell about 15 feet before the rope caught me. The fall was “all air” as climbers say; I didn't hit anything. I was filled with adrenaline, but the sensation was more relief than fear. After resting for a few minutes, I got back to work and was soon at the top enjoying the view.

What was left of the climb was an uberfall over the chasm between the spire we were on and the higher one next to it. Uberfall is a German term describing falling forward and catching yourself with your hands on an opposite wall. Here, after falling forward, we could then grab a handhold and pull ourselves over and up. Fairly exciting with several hundred feet of exposure.

After we all summited, Marc and I rappelled down the ropes to the ground to get pictures of Cameron and Fred doing the famous jump from the upper to the lower spire. I passed on this experience as my ankles have been punished enough by 48 years of similar stunts. The setting sun was painting its magic over the scene as they did their leaps with the camera clicking away.

We weren't finished with the Sedona spires, though. With Cameron and Fred, we climbed Oak Creek Spire (aka Rabbit Ears) with an even scarier jump at the top.

SEDONA ROCK CLIMB THIS fall unnerved ME BADLY.... THE SCARY PART OF SEDONA climbing was DEFINITELY BEGINNING TO outweigh THE BEAUTIFUL PART.

The following day, Rich Elmquist joined us to climb Dr. Rubo's Wild Ride on Summit Block Rock, near Coffee Pot Rock. The finale of our Sedona experience was the beautiful but terrifying Earth Angel, a huge spire hidden from view in a cul de sac of cliffs in the Red Rock-Secret Mountain Wilderness. A combination of difficult climbing, sketchy protection, and questionable rock make this climb a serious undertaking. If you tell other climbers that you've been to Sedona, they will eventually ask if you did Earth Angel. For this venture we recruited Peter Noebels of Tucson for our team. Peter is an experienced climbing guide. He knows no fear, and we would definitely need his nerve on Earth Angel. Marc and I alternated leading up the moderate but scary sections of the first few hundred feet of the climb. It was delicate climbing because of numerous loose blocks of sandstone that would break off their perches if we pulled out on them. This is dangerous to the lead climber but even more so to those waiting below who stand to be bombed by the dislodged blocks. The trick was to push down only as we climbed over them. The fun really started, though, when Peter led us through an overhanging section. The climbing was strenuous and technical. Worse, the small edges were brittle as crackers. I confirmed this by falling when a crucial foothold snapped as I followed. Although I was caught by the rope after a fall of only 10 feet or so, I swung off the rock and dangled several hundred feet in space.

This fall unnerved me badly even though I knew I couldn't go far because Peter was holding the rope from above. The scary part of Sedona climbing was definitely beginning to outweigh the beautiful part. Although I was jittery from the fall, the day passed like a dream with rainbow-hued "sun dogs" framing the top of the spire as we worked our way up more cracks on the face to the summit. We got to the top of the spire just as sunset cast its glow over the canyons, rock reefs, and spires to the west and north. After rappelling down at dusk, we hiked out through the dry creek bed in bright moonlight.

Our adventures in Sedona were over. For most climbers, a little of the dangerous sandstone climbing will last a long time. Only in six months or a year will the memories of the dreamy beauty of the area overcome the dread of the uncertain rock. Then we may again find ourselves heading north to the red rock country.

Author's Note: These climbs are not for beginners. Stay on the trails, pack your garbage out, and bury any human waste. Before venturing up the sandstone spires of Sedona, it is also wise, in case of emergency, to check in with the Sedona Ranger District, Coconino National Forest, at P.O. Box 300, Sedona, AZ 86336-0300; (602) 282-4119.

Highlighted by a lens flare, Peter Noebels ascends an upper section of Earth Angel, a beautiful but terrifying spire that tests the nerve of the best climbers. The spire is hidden in a remote alcove of the Red Rock-Secret Mountain Wilderness. PAGE) Concentrating on the last pitch of Earth Angel, Kerry is oblivious to the view below him, which, at the moment, only the photographer can appreciate.

Bob Kerry is a Tucson trial lawyer and the author of a book titled Backcountry Rockclimbing in Southern Arizona.

California-based Marc Muench is an experienced mountaineer. He has climbed extensively in the Sierras.